


Open Hands - A Bawson One-shot Series

by Mcshipper



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fighting, I'm somewhat happy with this one, This is my first work I'm posting on A03, also my first finished Bawson oneshot, macho mike
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-19 01:02:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9410609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mcshipper/pseuds/Mcshipper
Summary: A series of prompt fills and one shots about a pitcher and a catcher.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I currently have five different Bawson stories in the works and I've hit writers block on almost all of them; therefore I've never published a bawson fic, even though I've been working on them for a while now. So because of said writers block, you can imagine how happy I was to recieve a prompt. Immediatly I knew what I would write, and I think it turned out pretty okay. Please ignore any typos, i read over it a few times and fixed what I saw, but dyslexia is a bitch. 
> 
> Hopefully this will show y'all what I'm capable of writing and you'll send me more prompts :D Hope you enjoy! 
> 
> Prompt: Bawson + “Have you lost your damn mind?!” submitted by Mindykahling on tumblr, I hope it lives up to your expectations.

“I could have handled it,” Ginny states, following Mike into his hotel room, slamming the door firmly behind them. 

“So you’ve said,” Lawson mutters, stripping off his leather jacket and throwing it over the back of the couch. He discreetly uses it as a distraction to shake out his already aching hand. 

It angers him inside that he can still lose control like that. It took him a lot of years to grow out of the asshole of a kid he used to be. 

They had just been sitting in the hotel bar, bickering over plays and taking cheap jabs at each other over bourbon. It was like it always is; something comforting after a physically draining day, something that Mike Lawson always looked forward to. It was comforting, until he returned from the bathroom to find an asshole with a big ego and a belly full of alcohol with his hand dangerously close to his rookie’s ass. Even thinking back on it, Mike clenches his pain-ridden fist in anger, remembering how his hand advanced lower even as her palms pushed him away. The man’s hand grabbing a healthy portion of her ass, both of her hands jolting him away. Mike flew through the crowed a lot quicker than his sore knees would have liked, fist flying by the time he reatched his target. Ginny yelling. The three of them getting escorted out of the bar by hotel security. Ginny glaring at him the entire ride up the twenty story elevator ride. 

“Honestly Lawson, have you lost your damn mind?” Ginny’s continuous ranting about his behavior brings him back to reality. She waves an accusing hand at him, “You do realize that video is going to be viral by morning right? You realize you could have injured your catching hand, or even put the dumb bastard in the hospital.” 

“The asshole is going to be fine,” Mike says, rolling his eyes. “He’s going to have a helluva black eye tomorrow, but he’ll live to sexually objectify women another day.” 

“Why the hell couldn’t you just walk away?” She asks, her voice almost pleading. The intensity in her gaze paralyzes Lawson’s ability to form a coherent explanation. 

When he fails to answer, Ginny continues, “I don’t need a man to save me,” She jabs a finger at him, “And I sure as hell don’t need you using me to display some macho show of dominance. I can take care of myself, Lawson.” 

“You’re overreacting,” Mike says flatly, stepping closer to her. 

She locks eyes with him, “I could have taken him.” 

“He was a big guy, Ginny.” 

“So is Davis, and I took him pretty well during that brawl. I can hold my own.” 

“Look, I know you can take care of yourself. Trust me, I know. But the dude was drunk and sloppy, so I was just… looking out for you.” Mike watches the words turning in her head as she retains them. “It’s what I do, it’s my job.” 

“That’s the thing,” Ginny sighs, turning her back to him, pressing her palms against her eyes, “It’s not. Your job as my captain ends the minute we step out of the clubhouse. You’ve made that pretty fucking clear.”

His gaze darkens as his eyes bore into her back, “We both know damn well I’m not just your captain.” With that she spins on him, closing the space between them, making Mike gulp in surprise. 

Ginny licks her lips, “Yeah, then prove it.” She challenges, her eyes locked on his in a tense battle of wills. After a minute of standing there in weighted silence, she sighs knowingly before turning away. “Yeah, I didn’t think so.” 

As Ginny makes her way towards the door, his hand encircles her wrist. Gently he tugs at her back into his space. “No, that’s not how this works. You don’t get to accuse me of being ‘too professional,’ not when you’re the one that wanted to ignore what happened.” 

“Kind of like how you were going to fly halfway across the country to ignore feeling your feelings?” She questioned, chin jutted up at him. 

“I don’t have a problem feeling my feelings, Ginny. I have a problem with the overwhelming urge to want to act on them. 

She stood on her tippy toes, her lips ghosting his. “Well, this is me, telling you to act, Lawson.” 

Finally, she closes the small space between their lips. Her fingers run through his beard as Mike tries to deepen the kiss. Ginny wants more than anything to melt into the heat; wants more than anything to feel that delicious tingle in her lower belly travel all the way to the tips of her toes. But her stubbornness takes over and she pulls away. Her thumb brushing his lower lip as she runs her hands down his bearded face. She spins on her heel before she can change her mind and stay.

When Ginny speaks her voice is a little raspier than usual, a sound Mike would later mark as one of his favorite sounds, only second to making her moan. “Lawson,” She says walking backward toward the door, “make a move before I lose my damn mind.” 

And before Mike can react or even process what just happened, she’s gone; the door slamming soundly behind her.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo the only part of this story I was iffy on was the ending. I didn't want it to turn into smut or anything (not that I'm opposed) but this was specifically suppose to be an angsty prompt. I hope you guys enjoyed it anyways? I really like getting prompts, (anything but future!babies bc triggers, sorry), so i'd love to receive and fill more if you guys have any stashed away somewhere. Please leave me comments and let me know if my writing really has gone to shit, because I'm not very confident in my abilities these days :') Anyways, send me prompts on here or in my ask box on tumblr (bisexualmikelawsons.tumblr.com).


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